


Snowbreak

by taLionic



Series: Winter Break [1]
Category: Thundercats (2011)
Genre: Lion-O thinks he's straight, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 01, Sharing Body Heat, Snowed In, porn with a little plot, virgin/first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taLionic/pseuds/taLionic
Summary: When Lion-O and Tygra are forced to spend a cold night enduring the elements, they decide to do something other than resent each other while they wait. Preseries, Tygra/Lion-O.





	Snowbreak

**Author's Note:**

> Just some paper-thin princely smut. Enjoy~

If he hadn’t been interrupted with one hand down his pants that morning, none of this would be happening. It was unlucky to interrupt a mating, after all—not that Lion-O had been _mating_, strictly speaking—but bad luck always came of interrupting these things. Point being that if the king hadn’t inadvertently put a stop to Lion-O’s first chance at privacy in weeks just to send him off on yet another traditional hunting trip with his complete _tail _of an older brother, he and Tygra wouldn’t be taking refuge in a shallow cave up a sharp cliff wall while a bad-tempered comolbur and her cubs paced just out of reach below.

Lion-O was _sure_ of it.

Tygra leaned over the edge of their little precipice, frowning. A sharp breeze blew powdery snow around him, briefly obscuring him from view. “There’s two adults now. And a storm coming.” He straightened and sighed, backtracking to where Lion-O sat with his back—bruised and bleeding courtesy of the angry comolbur—against the cave wall, as far from the mouth of the cave as he could get. Tygra dropped down and shook himself, hitting Lion-O with a brief cascade of snow and ice crystals.

Lion-O moved away, cursing. “Stop that! What is wrong with you?”

Tygra continued brushing snow off his shoulders, not even slightly apologetic. “Why are you so grumpy today?”

Lion-O looked away, arms crossed, and refrained from answering. The heavy parka he was wearing had been much better protection against the cold before the comolbur had shredded it, and while he could appreciate having his scrapes and bruises kept numb, _no_ lion could appreciate freezing.

As if guessing his mind, Tygra said, “Are you still bleeding?”

Lion-O didn’t bother to check. “I’m fine,” he grunted, pulling his knees up in an effort to further ward away the chill. The comolbur's claws had only caught him in a glancing blow and, fortunately, the thick parka had taken the brunt of the damage. His cuts stung, but he doubted they were serious.

Tygra sighed and sat back. “Guess we’re stuck here until the weather eases off or someone finds us.”

Lion-O resented having the obvious rubbed in his face. Taking down comolburs required a minimum of two hunters, not the least because comolburs rarely gave up on prey once they’d chased it into a corner. The princes’ only hope for escape—climbing across the cliff wall until they reached the treeline and could travel through the branches, out of the comolburs’ reach—was made impossible by the snowy gusts of wind. They’d be trapped in this little cave all night unless the rest of their hunting party found them before nightfall. “They’ll find our tracks,” he said, making a cursory attempt at optimism.

“Not after all this snow,” Tygra said, seemingly ambivalent about the whole affair. But then, their situation was a great deal more embarrassing than dangerous—they’d trained to survive worse encounters, and Tygra’s annual _fluffiness_ would keep both of them from losing limbs during the night. It was one reason why Lion-O was always partnered with him or some other cat with a genetic winter coat during the end-of-year hunts. “We might be able to make a break for it after dark.”

“Not in a blizzard,” Lion-O grumbled, sinking back into pessimism. A storm might help shield them from the comolburs if they scaled back down the cliff face rather than across, but that was a gamble Lion-O was too cold to make. He probably could have managed it earlier in the afternoon, but not after he’d been shivering in a cave for several hours. He curled his numb fingers into tighter fists and shoved them more firmly into his armpits.

Tygra grunted and didn’t argue.

They waited in grouchy silence, Tygra occasionally checking on the comolburs, and Lion-O huddled into the tightest ball he could make. His shivering turned worse by degrees, and he hoped Tygra wouldn’t notice. He hated looking weak—especially with his brother nearby and ready to comment on it.

When daylight began fading into twilight, Tygra turned to him and said, “Let me see your injuries before we lose the light.”

“I’m _fine_, Tygra,” Lion-O spat.

Tygra muttered something under his breath, giving Lion-O only a moment’s warning before Tygra had crossed the narrow cave floor and yanked his shredded parka and shirt over his head.

Lion-O complained loudly while Tygra inspected his back and the side of his ribs. “Knock it off!”

“These are a little deep,” Tygra said. This close, his voice was a deep rumble in his chest. Lion-O could feel the steady heat emanating from his brother and went still, soaking it up. “But most of the bleeding has stopped,” Tygra continued, sitting back. “You’ll be fine.”

Lion-O growled while he plucked at what remained of his parka, already missing Tygra’s body heat. “I could have told you that.”

Tygra studied him silently while Lion-O struggled back into his shredded clothing and then tried to make himself comfortable against the icy stone wall. The brief shirtlessness had made his shivering worse, and he shook violently as he curled back into himself.

“It’ll be a real blizzard out there in a bit,” Tygra said after a minute.

Lion-O shot him an irritated glance. He was cold, he was hungry, he was in pain, he was trapped in a small space with the one cat capable of making everything worse, and he hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks. He wasn’t interested in the whisker-flipping weather. “So?”

“_So_ you’re going to freeze like that.” Tygra’s eyes turned briefly toward the mouth of the cave. “Nobody will be able to search for us until morning. I’ve got an undercoat,” referring to the thicker fur he grew during the winter, “but you’ll need a source of heat if we’re going to be out here all night.”

_Again with the obvious._ Lion-O came very close to sneering. “What do you care?”

Tygra’s eyebrows rose mockingly, and he patted the ground next to him.

Lion-O thought about telling him to go jump off the ledge and get mauled by the comolburs, but _whiskers_ he was freezing. Daylight was being rapidly usurped by a dreary twilight by then, and he could sense a storm in the air as well as any animal. Scowling, he gripped the remains of his parka close while he crawled over to Tygra and sank down gingerly next to him.

Tygra sighed and closed the remaining half inch between them so their thighs were pressed together, and then unbuttoned his parka, fingers moving quickly, with no sign of frozen stiffness.

Lion-O watched him out of the corner of his eye, jealous of his brother’s near-immunity to cold. “What are you doing?”

“You’re such a moron.” Tygra pulled his parka off and tucked one end of it around Lion-O’s knees and feet before settling in next to him. They both huddled beneath the heavy fabric, Lion-O still shivering and Tygra apparently nothing more than bored. Lion-O gave up another scrap of pride and pressed himself harder against his brother, burying his numb face into the thick fur of Tygra’s shoulder. Tygra didn’t pull away or say anything, so Lion-O assumed it was fine.

Night closed in. The temperature continued to drop, and wind howled across the mouth of the cave in increasingly snowy bursts. Lion-O took off his parka, and they wrapped what was left of it around their feet to better trap Tygra’s heat. It wasn’t late enough in the year for much snow, or for what snow there was to really stick, but the wind bit violently and gusts into the cave were frequent. Lion-O ducked his head beneath Tygra’s parka, and a moment later, Tygra joined him.

“It could be worse,” Tygra said, turning his head enough for his breath to feel hot over Lion-O’s nose. “At least comolburs can’t climb.” It was a bizarre detour from his usual snarky pessimism.

“Whatever,” Lion-O grumbled drowsily. But for the first time in his life, he hoped Tygra would keep talking—he nearly ached for any additional heat. He sighed into his brother’s fur, fighting sleep.

“So if those comolburs come for us anyway,” Tygra said at length, “what’s your biggest regret?”

Lion-O snorted, half asleep. “Sex,” he said.

“Sex?”

Abruptly, Lion-O was wide awake. “I—I mean,” he said, struggling to sit up.

Unfortunately, Tygra knew exactly what Lion-O meant. His most obnoxious smirk lit up his face. “Why, Lion-O... are you still a virgin?”

“Shut up.”

Tygra started laughing.

“Shut _up_, Tygra!” Lion-O snarled through bared teeth, and wrenched himself out from under their parkas. He regretted it immediately: wind like knives blasted into his face, temporarily stealing his breath. The movement tweaked his back as well, and pain laced its way around his rib cage and down his spine. He curled into himself reflexively, once more shivering violently.

Tygra wound one arm around Lion-O’s shoulders and pulled him back into the slightly warmer space he’d previously occupied, muttering darkly while he arranged their parkas back into place.

Lion-O didn’t object. Tygra would be a tail whether they sat pressed against one another or glaring across the cave, so he might as well take whatever warmth he could. Besides, having Tygra’s arm wrapped around him meant Tygra wasn’t fast enough to prevent Lion-O from nearly crawling into his shirt. Tygra liked to wear relatively tight clothing, so Lion-O didn’t get far in this endeavor—but beyond the initial flinch and cursing, Tygra didn’t object to Lion-O burying his frozen nose into the fur of his chest, nor did he stop Lion-O from wrapping his arms around Tygra’s torso, icy fingers tangled in thin material and thick fur.

“You know,” Tygra said after they had been settled for several minutes, “I could help you out with that. If you wanted to.”

Lion-O had just begun to relax again, and he wished he could sleep—but he was far too cold, even wrapped around his winter-retardant brother. “What?”

“It’d warm us up, too.”

Lion-O’s voice was muffled in Tygra’s fur, masking any cold-induced stuttering. “What are you talking about?”

Tygra tugged his shirt back up and, when Lion-O hissed and straightened, Tygra met his scowl with one haughty eyebrow raised. “Sex, of course. What did you think I was talking about?”

Lion-O stared. “You want to have sex?” he managed eventually, not entirely certain he was following.

Tygra’s teeth flashed behind his smirk, and with no further warning, he grabbed the back of Lion-O’s head, pulled him halfway into his lap, and dragged his tongue, rough and hot, over Lion-O’s lips. He spoke with their mouths pressed together, his voice somewhere between a purr and a growl. “I think you want it more than I do.” Then he tilted his head and claimed a deep kiss—Lion-O’s first, not that Tygra needed to know that.

Lion-O found it difficult to argue with a hot tongue to suck on. When Tygra’s grip loosened and they parted a moment later, Lion-O moved without hesitation: he tugged his feet free of his parka and slid one leg across Tygra’s lap. In turn, Tygra shifted and reoriented the parkas until Lion-O was cradled comfortably between Tygra’s crossed legs with the parkas wrapped around both of them.

The new position left Tygra’s knees partially exposed. Lion-O pressed a shivering kiss to his brother’s chin and dragged his claws through the fur of his chest. “Y-you’re going to freeze—” He temporarily lost his train of thought when Tygra cupped his face with both hands and pulled him into another deep kiss.

This one lingered, meant for both of them where the last had been about Tygra taking what he would. Lion-O’s inexperience had been apparent the first time, but this kiss made it unavoidably obvious, and Tygra’s laughing smirk broke them apart shortly after it began. “I’m too hot to be cold,” he said in breathless answer to Lion-O’s question. “Who taught you how to make out?”

Lion-O made a dismissive noise and dragged his tongue over his brother’s cheek, just a quick swipe. “You are.” He pressed their mouths together again and groaned softly when Tygra met him with equal fervor.

For all Tygra’s sniping and criticisms, Lion-O had never been slow to learn. It was not long before he decided Tygra’s direction was no longer necessary, and he sat up just enough to break the current kiss. Cradling Tygra’s face, he hovered just over his mouth, breath mingling, grinding their hips together and grinning faintly at every moan Tygra could not fully suppress. Their lips met briefly, then lingered, then teased; Lion-O chose how passionate or gentle each kiss would be and how long each would last, and Tygra—perhaps not entirely sure how it had happened—found himself being led by his partner, rather than dominating. He retaliated by dragging his hands down Lion-O’s back (Lion-O hissed when his cuts stung) and squeezing his hips to dictate how their bodies met and moved together.

Heat stole over Lion-O and mounted with his arousal. Sitting as they were, with Lion-O wrapped around Tygra and Tygra’s heat seeping into him, Lion-O’s shivering abated almost entirely. His most pressing concern narrowed down to the tension between his legs, and he pushed away any faint misgivings in favor of feeling all the ways Tygra ground their bodies together. When Tygra’s fingers undid the front of his pants and slid inside, Lion-O’s head dropped to Tygra’s shoulder and he thrust raggedly into his brother’s hand, gasping. He lifted himself slightly on his knees and pressed open-mouthed kisses up Tygra’s throat while Tygra gripped and rubbed and _squeezed_, smearing precum with his thumb.

Lion-O heard all the embarrassingly desperate, plaintive sounds he was making, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Tygra brought him out and let him thrust helplessly into the thick fur of his stomach, shirt pushed up as high as Lion-O could get it. He knew when Tygra had freed himself by the movement of his hand and the way he groaned and sighed into Lion-O’s mane. Bracing himself on Tygra’s chest with claws, Lion-O bit the corner of his lip and dragged himself back down Tygra’s chest until the blinding heat of their erections were trapped between them, sliding and twitching against one another. Their shared arousal left him gasping, enthralled by the way they both wanted, so clearly _needed_ more—but when Lion-O dragged one hand down Tygra’s chest intending to grab them both, Tygra stopped him with warm fingers.

“Your hands are cold,” was the breathless explanation when Lion-O lifted his gaze inquiringly. So he settled for sliding his hands through Tygra’s chest and shoulders and hair while Tygra squeezed and pumped and worked them both. He was so hard, they both were, and words failed between them, rarely more than disjointed moans between deep, ravaging kisses.

Lion-O pressed his forehead against Tygra’s, once more with his lower lip sliding between his teeth. He’d never imagined mating with his brother, nor did he generally look twice at other men—and somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected this would have consequences he’d rather not face—but he couldn’t care. Not now, not when Tygra’s hand and tongue and body and teeth felt so good, so hot, building and mounting and driving him upward and faster and there, almost there, almost there_almostthere__—_

Tygra released him, grabbed his hips, and shoved him back enough to make thrusting against his stomach impossible. He cut off Lion-O’s indignant cry with a rough kiss made short by breathless laughter. “Not yet, little brother. _I’m_just getting started.”

Lion-O made a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan and nipped bruises along Tygra’s jaw and across his shoulder, as much as he could reach behind the wide collar of Tygra's shirt. Instead of taking it as justly dealt criticism and letting Lion-O finish _now_, Tygra inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, uttering a low, vaguely pulsing rumble originating somewhere near the base of his throat: the tiger version of a purr.

Lion-O paused, unexpectedly touched. He was rarely close enough to one of the common breeds to hear someone purring, and while he knew Tygra could churr—the ability being unique to tigers—he’d never actually heard Tygra utter anything more interesting than the occasional hiss. His churr was a heavy, soothing sound, and it stirred some new, deeply hidden feeling to the surface, one Lion-O couldn’t fully define.

He rubbed his cheek roughly against Tygra’s shoulder in a much more commonplace gesture of affection among cats, the best answer he could make, and continued placing the hard little bites Tygra seemed to enjoy so much, now interspersed with licks and kisses. Tygra’s rumbling churr felt good beneath his fingers and lips, satisfying enough to distract from the need that was still aching and dripping between his legs. He could wait.

Happily, Tygra didn’t make him wait long. Still churring, he drew Lion-O into a long, searing kiss that left him gasping. His words carried a rumbling vibration when he spoke. “Think you can handle taking all of me, little brother?”

Lion-O nosed beneath Tygra’s jaw, still breathing heavily. “I’m handling you now, aren’t I?”

Tygra turned his head and brushed a fleeting kiss over Lion-O’s temple before clarifying with a faint sense of exasperation. “Can you handle being _penetrated_?”

That brought Lion-O up short. He blinked and pulled back slightly. “Um.” In all honesty, he didn’t know, but he doubted Tygra wanted to hear that. He’d never considered it or anything like it. He’d only ever fantasized about being the dominant mate, about sliding and being squeezed and gripped by a soft heat made slick with desire for him. _Providing_ that heat for another man had never crossed his mind. “...I don’t think I can.”

Tygra was not deterred. He undid the top of Lion-O's shirt and dragged his tongue through the fur on Lion-O’s neck and face, grooming him the way lions traditionally like to be groomed. (Admittedly, it did feel very nice. Perhaps there was something to tradition after all.) “Come on, you’ll like it. We both will.” He kissed the corner of Lion-O’s mouth. “I won’t hurt you.” He dipped his tongue between Lion-O’s lips. “It’ll feel great, I promise.”

Lion-O accepted his brother’s tongue and his kisses. He rocked his hips forward in an experimental thrust and was delighted when Tygra gathered him against himself, chest to chest with erections trapped between them. Lion-O tipped his face to the side and stole a kiss, and then another when Tygra offered, before answering. “Have you ever let another man do that to you?”

Tygra huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “Want to make it a trade? I fuck you, you fuck me?”

Lion-O noticed the evasion and filed it away to think about later. “Well...” Being penetrated was not immediately appealing, but taking Tygra—marking him as his, taking and _filling_ him—certainly was. Lion-O wouldn’t normally say he wanted to try anal before vaginal, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea, and he wasn’t sure if she-cats even tolerated that sort of thing, anyway. And he could admit that Tygra was an attractive cat, exceedingly so. This, he decided, would be a good experience to have, an opportunity he might come to regret passing up. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to put a stop to it if he decided he hated being the girl.

Tygra wouldn’t do that.

“Alright,” Lion-O said at last. “Everybody penetrates everybody. Deal.”

Tygra’s lips curled into the kind of smirk Lion-O usually dreaded and despised. Unease briefly lurched inside him, but then it was lost under Tygra’s mouth and hands and the deep rumble in his chest—

Lion-O slid his fingers between their lips and said, before Tygra could object: “I’m taking you first.”

“Wha—” Tygra broke off kissing Lion-O’s fingertips, eyebrows drawn together only long enough for Lion-O to register the pause. “Sure, why not.” Tygra brushed his fingers aside and pulled him back into an energetic kiss.

He hadn’t stopped churring and gave no indication of displeasure, so Lion-O wound his arms around his brother's neck and kissed him back with equal vigor, and that whisper of unease within him dissipated. He grinned when they broke apart and murmured against Tygra’s mouth, “How do you want to do this?”

Tygra chased the words with his lips and didn’t answer until Lion-O went back to nipping bruises along his jaw. “Ah—y-yes, um,” he swallowed, and Lion-O crowed this victory in knowing silence. _Losing control at the hands of a virgin, bro?_ (Tygra noticed. _Just wait until I’m pounding your tail_, his eyes retorted.) “How's your back? Think you can lean against the wall, hold me in your lap like I have you?”

Lion-O straightened briefly and twisted his torso, wincing when his cuts and bruises protested. “Not if there’s a better alternative.”

“Mm.” Tygra buried his fingers in Lion-O’s mane while he nuzzled back into Tygra’s fur. “This will work, then. Get between my legs, push me up against the wall.”

Lion-O’s breath caught, and he shivered with something decidedly more thrilling than cold. “Pants, boots--off.”

“No need for that. I can turn around if you can’t manage my clothes in your lap.”

The mental image of thrusting into Tygra from behind brought another bolt of desire that stole Lion-O’s breath. He scrambled between Tygra’s legs, dragged him onto his thighs, and walked forward on his knees and toes until Tygra fit snugly between him and the wall. Tygra finished opening Lion-O's shirt and then readjusted their parkas while Lion-O fumbled with Tygra’s belt, unable to see the knotted cloth in the moonless night rapidly falling around them, and eventually just shoved it up his stomach. Tygra braced himself with both arms and lifted his hips long enough for Lion-O to tug his clothing down, leaving it bunched around his thighs, and then he was a hot, steady pressure on Lion-O’s lap.

Their lips met briefly, then Tygra slid two fingers into Lion-O’s mouth and murmured a husky order to leave them dripping. Lion-O obliged and then reclaimed Tygra’s mouth while Tygra slid his wet fingers down between their bodies. Tygra’s clothing necessitated his knees and legs being more of a barrier than was comfortable—not that Lion-O had cause to complain; he’d just rather not have the impediment of Tygra’s pants between them—so Lion-O was only vaguely aware of what Tygra’s fingers were _doing_ by the movement of his hand and the way he sucked in his breath and tensed with bared teeth.

Lion-O kept his hands on Tygra’s waist, not wanting to shock him out of an erection with icy fingers, and contented himself with waiting by pressing hard, wet kisses to his brother’s mouth.

“Whiskers,” Tygra breathed, breaking away from Lion-O’s kiss. “You think you—can handle a tight fit, or—”

“Yeah, let me—” Lion-O fumbled between them until he located Tygra’s fingers sliding out of his body. He replaced Tygra’s fingers cautiously with two of his own and considered this new environment he was about to stuff himself into, the tight muscle and dry heat and the way Tygra squirmed and bit back gasping moans when Lion-O twisted his fingers inside.

Tygra spat into his palm and smeared wet heat around Lion-O’s shaft, then grabbed and tugged him into position. Lion-O removed his fingers hastily and supported Tygra’s hips while Tygra focused on impaling himself. Pushing his way into the tight, clenching heat was a slower process than Lion-O had initially expected, and almost uncomfortable. He bit his lip and nosed into his brother’s fur until the head was in, then Tygra wound both arms around his neck and Lion-O took over. Their kisses became short and distracted while he eased further inside, engulfing himself in his brother’s body while Tygra gasped and grimaced.

Lion-O was shuddering by the time he was fully seated inside, aware that he would reach his plateau at any moment but unsure of how to stave it off. He sought desperately for a mood-killing mental image, but found it difficult to think of mood-killers with Tygra moaning and churring and _tighthothard_ in his lap. “Okay?” Lion-O breathed, not altogether sure Tygra could hear him.

“Yes, yes,” Tygra gasped, and Lion-O drew himself out carefully and sank back in with notably better control. _This is—oh, gods—_ Tygra panted and clung to him, whispering semi-audible pleas between shuddering gasps and moans, and Lion-O could not imagine anything better than this. What words could describe it, how it felt to be squeezed and desired and held so passionately? He kissed his brother’s parted lips reverently, if clumsily, and tightened his grip on Tygra’s hips.

The next thrust came easier, and so did the one after, and Lion-O leaned into his brother with eyes tightly shut. He readjusted his grip, eager for a faster rhythm, and pulled Tygra down to match his powerful thrust up, sliding home hard—maybe too hard—Tygra made a soft noise and unexpectedly clenched around him, yanking Lion-O past that final point and sending him tumbling down through his climax. He groaned helplessly, shuddering and jerking in Tygra’s arms until it was over.

When the white spots finally cleared from his vision, he hissed, “_Whiskers_.”

Tygra regarded him silently in the semi-darkness while he twitched and rode out the aftershocks, arms loose around his neck. “Well,” he sighed at last, “endurance comes with practice, I guess.”

The lack of near-malicious taunting brought Lion-O’s head up in genuine shock. He cleared his throat and said, in a somewhat strangled voice, “I’ll, uh, give you a better showing next time.” He paused, replayed those words in his mind, and amended: “If you want.”

Tygra might have laughed, but the sound was too faint for Lion-O to parse much beyond ‘not unhappy.’ “Let me up, little brother. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Lion-O ignored a brief flare of foreboding and gathered Tygra firmly against himself while he slid out. They both hissed at the point of separation, and Lion-O experienced a jolt of carnal delight when his cock was followed by a thick spatter of semen hitting the stone floor between his knees. He grinned helplessly while they untangled themselves and worked Tygra’s clothing back over his hips. Then their lips met while Tygra reached around to unclasp Lion-O’s belt.

“I don’t know if I can do this without something to brace against,” Lion-O ventured, standing briefly on his knees while Tygra tugged his pants down his hips.

He shivered when Tygra pressed an unexpected kiss to his abdomen, tempting a hopeful jump from his softening cock. Tygra gave it a brief, friendly rub with the back of his fingers, then licked kisses up Lion-O’s stomach, chest (deviating just long enough to lick his nipples roughly to attention), throat, and finally his mouth, before he answered. “Lie down with me, then. We’ll spoon.” He paused and smirked, something Lion-O was only aware of because they were nuzzling each other’s faces. “A tight spoon. You can ball up as much as you like.”

Lion-O considered it, and dragged his tongue over Tygra’s lips one last time before he murmured, “Yes, okay.”

They rearranged their parkas to make lying down as comfortable as possible, made easier by the additional donation of Tygra’s shirt and the fact that Lion-O was better covered while curled on his side than he had been in any other position. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared; Tygra was very hot against his back, and his arm made a good support once Lion-O had settled.

The new position meant Lion-O would have to twist uncomfortably to kiss his brother, so he settled for nuzzling into his arm and listening to Tygra spit into his hand again. His fingers came as a slick surprise, and Lion-O twitched when Tygra pressed a fingertip into his body.

“Relax,” Tygra whispered, voice husky and tight with desire while he continued to slide one finger in. “You’re okay, you can do this... There you go...”

Lion-O exhaled sharply through his teeth, hyper-aware of the intrusion. He grimaced as Tygra pulled it back out, and groaned when two fingers pushed in next. The finger-fucking continued slowly, and after a while, Lion-O was relieved to find the discomfort easing off.

“Does that hurt?” Tygra breathed, kissing his shoulder.

“No,” Lion-O gasped through clenched teeth.

Tygra kissed his shoulder again and slid his fingers out completely, leaving Lion-O uncomfortably aware of how exposed he was. When Tygra pulled away slightly and spat again, Lion-O understood they were done with fingers. He tried to relax, but that was extremely difficult to do once Tygra was pushing in. The whimper that escaped him was downright embarrassing.

Tygra hushed him and dragged his tongue over his shoulder, neck, cheek, everywhere he could reach while he eased his way in. Lion-O squirmed and grimaced and wondered why anyone would enjoy having a cock shoved up their tail. It wasn’t _bad_, but it wasn’t comfortable, either, let alone enjoyable. He wondered if it had been this bad for Tygra when Lion-O was inside him, or perhaps worse because Lion-O had never done it while Tygra clearly _had_. (But Tygra enjoyed it, hadn’t he? He’d acted like... like being penetrated was desirable whether it felt good or not... Something else to think about later, perhaps.)

Tygra began to rock his hips, having pushed in enough to make thrusting just possible. Every time he rocked forward, he pushed inside a little deeper. Lion-O gasped and winced with every thrust.

“You’re doing great,” Tygra breathed shakily, as if struggling to hold himself back.

“G-good,” Lion-O gasped, barely audible.

Tygra went slowly, even slower than Lion-O had gone when their positions were reversed. He kissed and groomed his brother and whispered husky encouragement while Lion-O adjusted to being further impaled with every slow thrust. Once Tygra had slid all the way in and out a few times with no additional stretching required, Lion-O decided it wasn’t so bad. He thought he could see the appeal, but didn’t think he’d seek this out unless he could get something more desirable out of it. He settled into Tygra’s arms and took the slow thrusts, tightening when Tygra was inside and breathing when he slid out.

Tygra grunted softly with every thrust, breathing harder and gradually picking up speed. When Lion-O reached back to dig his claws into Tygra’s hip, he found the fur there damp with sweat. A red flag went up somewhere in the back of his mind. “A—_ha_... aren’t you— c-cold—?”

Tygra’s voice, though trembling with excitement and lust, was relatively clear. “’M fine—winter coat, remember?” His thrusts began to elicit an audible sound every time their bodies met, and Lion-O hissed through clenched teeth. It still didn’t hurt, but the pace was uncomfortable again. “You okay?” Tygra rasped.

“Yes,” Lion-O managed.

“Want to slow down?”

“I—” Lion-O swallowed, panting—when had he lost his breath? “Y-yes.”

“All right.” Tygra settled back into an easy push and pull, slow enough that Lion-O could relax again by degrees.

With the discomfort mostly faded, Lion-O returned to the question of whether or not he liked being mounted, torn between his initial stance of _hell no_ and the way he felt with Tygra curled around him. There didn’t seem to be any real pleasure in it for the bottom—he felt _something_ with every thrust, but he could sense it wouldn’t be enough to give him an orgasm on its own. But he _was_ growing hard again while Tygra thrust and moaned from behind, pushing deep inside with an uncharacteristic gentleness, and cradling Lion-O close like something precious—like a cherished mate. _No wonder cats talk about him like some kind of sex god_. He understood why Tygra had that particular reputation now.

But did he like taking it up the tail? _No_, he told himself firmly. Mounting Tygra had been vastly more pleasurable. Whatever excitement he felt now came from the sounds Tygra was making, the flex and pull of his muscles, the simple fact that he was fucking. The churring and kisses and grooming brought an additional layer of heat to the table, but they’d be enjoyable in a platonic setting, too. He’d still feel the same, just like this, if Tygra were wanking across the room.

_Right?_

Tygra moaned, sinking his teeth into Lion-O’s scruff and effectively bringing him away from the galling realization that he didn’t mind being Tygra’s bitch. Determined to salvage a bit of pride he hadn’t known he had, he reached back and grabbed a handful of Tygra’s hair, ignoring his protesting injuries. “You almost done back there, bro?” he whispered, voice trembling.

“_G-gods_, Lion-O—”

Ah. Now _this_... “Gonna come for me?”

Tygra whimpered through Lion-O’s scruff and shook with the effort of holding back, of not slamming into Lion-O so hard they both saw stars, of not taking him until he thrashed and screamed while Tygra exploded inside. Lion-O knew. He understood.

_This_ might be worth it. “C’mon, Tygra,” he breathed, arching his back and groaning in pain as much as desire. “Let’s see you fill me—”

Tygra’s climax rocked his whole body, left him shuddering violently from head to toe, claws and teeth digging into Lion-O’s fur, almost hard enough to hurt. Lion-O expected him to pound into him harder and faster, but Tygra kept to the same gentle pace, only breaking from it at the end to press himself into Lion-O as far as he could, as if trying to push through him altogether. They were melded so tightly together that Lion-O _felt_ his brother throb within him, could match each of Tygra’s gasped moans to the corresponding spasms inside.

When Tygra finally pulled out and collapsed against Lion-O’s back, panting and churring, Lion-O was aware of something hot and slick oozing over the curve of a cheek, and unexpectedly found he was not uncomfortable with it. He liked the slow slide of Tygra’s seed getting caught in his fur. He liked the wet heat of Tygra’s cock softening against his thigh. He liked knowing Tygra had spent inside him, the same way he liked knowing his own seed had irrevocably become a part of Tygra, and that Tygra could do nothing to remove or replace it.

It was a different instinct, less pleasure and more predatory triumph; he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. He rolled over carefully and wrapped an arm around Tygra’s waist, nuzzling beneath his chin until Tygra caught his breath and pulled him into a deep kiss.

“And _that_,” Tygra managed once they parted, “is how you fuck a cat.”

Lion-O snorted and pressed himself against Tygra’s damp fur. “You’ll be freezing in a minute.”

“Nah. And we aren’t finished here, anyway.” Tygra slid a leg between Lion-O’s thighs and reached down to tease the head of his still very much interested shaft.

Lion-O sucked in a breath. “...Think you can take it on your knees this time?”

Tygra’s lips curled into a smirk against Lion-O’s forehead. “That’s an idea,” he purred. “Why don’t we see who can take it better?”

* * *

They took it in turns to sleep through the night. Every shift change came with a hand and a climax if they weren’t up for another full-round of mating. Dawn, when it arrived, brought milder weather (which was still too cold for Lion-O’s taste).

They gave themselves a cursory wash by scrubbing their fur with snow, then Lion-O bundled up in both parkas, still swearing at his snow-bath, while Tygra leaned over the edge of their precipice. “Bad news,” he said mildly when Lion-O joined him.

Lion-O squinted at the distant ground. “Is that the whole pack?” he said, incredulous. There were nearly a dozen shaggy beasts patrolling angrily at the base of the cliff.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for the morning,” Tygra said, sitting back. “We’ll have to wait for rescue. Make a flag out of our clothes.” He smirked faintly.

“_Or_ we could climb across the cliff now that it’s clear enough to do it.”

Tygra looked affronted. “Why would we do that when we know the rest of the party probably started searching at first light?”

Lion-O was already testing the rock wall for clawholds. “Because I’m hungry.”

Tygra snorted but didn’t otherwise object. He was hungry, too. Plan thus made, they dug their claws into the damp rock and began picking their way across the cliff, trying not to laugh while they worked out a suitably heroic explanation for where they’d been all night.

They didn’t talk about warm, expectant beds or the bottle of lubricant tucked in the corner of a locked drawer in Tygra’s chambers.

But they didn’t need to.


End file.
